


Something that can't be bought

by PlutoApologist



Category: The Prom - Sklar/Beguelin/Martin
Genre: F/F, Spooktober, cornerwitch au wooot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:42:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlutoApologist/pseuds/PlutoApologist
Summary: “You’re real,”  Emma breathed. She had heard rumors from whispers of outsiders of the Corner Witch, a beautiful girl who appeared to those who were lost and had nowhere else to go. She went by many names, the Protector, the Giver, some called her a goddess. If you were looking for her, you only had to go to where only the desperate would dare to tread, she had heard, but now she was looking at her and all the rumors were but shadows.





	Something that can't be bought

Emma wrapped her thin jacket tighter around herself, the cold wind cruelly freezing her already battered heart. She shouldered her bag, heavy with all the possessions she could take, with a shuddering sigh, praying that no one could see her run away tears. Running away wasn’t an ideal option, but she had felt the tide of anger coming over her as her parents voices rose to an overwhelming crescendo. She didn’t remember anything until she was out in the streets breathing heavy, in a part of town she’d never been in. Her feet and lungs burned, but it wasn’t the hell that was her “home”. She didn’t have to know what they were saying to know that they were arguing about her. They’d been arguing about her ever since she’d been caught holding Grace Barlow’s hand after gym and whispering to her, a tender blush spotting both of their cheeks. Emma had no idea where she was except that it was better. Better than conversations behind closed doors about how to fix her and keeping her close when she went out with her parents, like she was a bomb that could go off and any second. A female voice hummed gently and Emma turned suddenly. 

She walked practically in a trance toward the voice, all other thoughts driven from her mind. Her breath hitched at the source of the sound, a stunning girl, all sharp angles and softness all at the same time. The girl lazily let a cigarette drop to the ground, the smoke trailing up what she could see of her toned legs. Emma’s mouth went dry at the tantalizing stretch of skin between where her skirt ended and where she wrapped her legs with a worn leather band. A red feathery cape rested on her shoulders, seeming lightweight despite the thickness of the feathers. The girl turned, revealing dark skin and kind smile that even the dark night beginning to settle in couldn’t hide. She looked carefree despite the fact that she only wore a wrap style crop top and flowy thin skirt with a red sash. Her eyes sparkled unnaturally soft, as if someone had dimmed the night stars. Emma’s heart fluttered like it never had before. This wasn’t just butterflies in her stomach, this was a migration. 

“You’re real,” Emma breathed. She had heard rumors from whispers of outsiders of the Corner Witch, a beautiful girl who appeared to those who were lost and had nowhere else to go. She went by many names, the Protector, the Giver, some called her a goddess. If you were looking for her, you only had to go to where only the desperate would dare to tread, she had heard, but now she was looking at her and all the rumors were but shadows. The Corner Witch was the moon and the sun. The smallest speck of dust to the Mount Olympus. She’d never believed in love at first sight but- but she was-

“-real and in front of you, I promise,” the other girl assured taking Emma’s hands. Her entire body felt warm suddenly, like she was being bathed by the sun’s rays. She let go and leaned against the wall, smirking. “Am I as good as you thought I’d be?”

“Better,” Emma whispered. A moment passed and there was nothing between but silence and the gentle night air. The woman came closer, concern narrowing her carefree features, and brushed the tears Emma had forgotten about off her cheeks.

“Why were you crying?”

“I’m not going to tell someone I don’t know why I was crying,” Emma chuckled, leaning toward her touch. The mysterious girl gently cupped her chin, wiping off the last remnants of her tears.

“The mortals call me Alyssa,” the mysterious girl said, taking her hand away from Emma’s chin, brushing her artfully messy hair out of her eyes as she took her hand away, she winked, taking Emma’s breath away. “Now are you going to tell me why you were crying?”

“Someone...hurt me.” Alyssa’s eyes narrowed dangerously as she perused her body for signs of harm. She reached out and ran her hands over Emma’s arms. Emma took a panicked step back, instead of reaching out her palms to meet the other girls blessed palms like she yearned to. 

“Not like that. They broke my heart.”

“That’s just as grievous an offense, some day mortals will be struck down and they’ll be sorry,” Alyssa mumbled. Emma anxiously fidgeted and pulled her jacket closer as a cruel breeze blew around the corner. 

“Not you, you’re better than them,” she smiled and Emma couldn’t help but smile back. There was something about her that drew Emma in, even if her weary heart had already been battered. “What did you come here for? I don’t take your wishes lightly.”

Emma knew what she wanted. She wanted to be safe and protected and loved. But looking at Alyssa she already felt that. 

“I’m a little cold.” 

Alyssa raised an eyebrow at that but held out a dainty hand. “What can you offer me?”

“Two guitar picks, a torn pamphlet, and an old movie ticket.” The electricity she felt when they brushed fingers could have split a tree in two. She drew back her hand with Emma’s payment and brushed her fingers over them, sighing out in a smile. When she lifted her hand, a red flower rested in her palm. It’s petals lifted invitingly with the wind and Emma gently took it. 

“Plant it in ashes, water it with chamomile tea and eat each blossom with something cherished,” Alyssa left her with one last sweet smile and turned to leave. 

“Wait!” Emma felt her tears threatening to spill again now that it was just her and the skittering of animals on the pavement. “I don’t know where to go. I can’t go home.”

“You’ll know the way,” the witch smiled knowingly. 

Emma watched her walk away powerlessly, clutching the small flower like it was her life line. A few tears landed on the delicate plant, but she dusted herself off and walked away regardless. She shouldered her bag, still clutching the small flower. She eventually found her way out of the alley way, looking behind her shoulder at every turn. It was strange, every time she felt an overwhelming sense of despair, a lightness took over and her feet took her to safety. 

Emma leaned on the wall, catching her breath. Some kind of spirit had possessed her in the alley and now without rage or passion flowing through her she could pass out any second. The girl still haunted her but she didn’t mind, what she imagined was her presence had kept her going. She could’ve sworn she saw her in the graffiti in the alleys, or in the smoke from fires of the homeless. 

“-Emma, what are you doing in the city? Your parents didn’t say you were coming,” A kindly old voice said above her. Emma looked up with wide eyes at her grandma, wanting nothing more than to rush over and hug her tightly. 

“They didn’t- I came here by- “She didn’t get one more word out before she was wrapped in warmth. Emma touched the scarf that was wrapped around her neck as her grandma pulled away from the hug in wonder. Grandmas truly were miracles. 

“Betsy, you really don’t need to- “

“You can call me grandma, I don’t know what kind of nonsense your parents put into your head.” Betsy laughed, affectionately wrapping the scarf around her neck, messing with her as she did. “Let’s get you home, honey.”

“No, I’m not going back there,” Emma said frantically, tugging crazily on the scarf till it got tangled up.

“You’re never going back there again.” Betsy put the scarf back in order with a murderous look in her eyes. Her eyes softened and Betsy softly kissed her forehead. She stuck the red flower in Emma’s hair with a chuckle. “I don't know how you found a flower in these conditions but it suits you.”

Emma gasped and held it tight to her heart. The very key to her happiness had almost slipped out of her grasp. 

Betsy already had a room ready and only shrugged when asked why she had it ready. The flower stayed secure on Emma’s person, right next to her heart. Emma wandered out of her room half an hour later in a cozy sweatshirt with a cat pattern, to find Betsy at the stove, humming a familiar tune. 

“What are you singing?” 

“Just an old tune from my childhood. You know how grandmas are,” Betsy chuckled. She blew on the soup in the ladle before tasting and grinning like the Cheshire Cat at her own cooking. “Why? Do you recognize it from somewhere?”

“No, it just sounded really pretty.” Betsy smiled and held up the spoon for her to taste. Emma took it with a smile. “What do you say we do smores just we used to do when you were little? It’s not often you some to visit.”

“I’d love that. And grandma I didn’t mean to put you out I just- “

“You don’t have to tell me anything you’re not ready to if you don’t want to,” Betsy gently interrupted, leading her over to the table to sit. She quietly looked down at the floor, fidgeting with the sweater. “I’ll finish up dinner, you just sit here and rest. By the way, this belonged to my wife by the way, so it should bring you good luck.” 

Emma had to lean on the table for balance. Out of meeting a witch in an alley and learning her grandma had dated a woman before, learning about her grandma was almost as surprising as meeting a witch.

“You’ve dated a woman?! You’re a- a-”

“A bisexual, dear, yes. Who did you think it was who I brought to family dinners.”

“Mom and dad said- “

“If I’ve ever taught you anything, let it be that your parents are wrong.” Emma smiled sadly. Years of being told she was what was wrong with the world and her parents were the ones who were wrong. Her life could have been rough around the edges, but better. But it was too late to grieve the past. She had a future here with real family. 

“Where is she?” Betsy set a bowl of soup on the table and smiled sadly. “She died years ago honey. I stopped bringing her to family dinners when your mother’s looks became too much, so I’m sorry you didn’t get to see her more.”

“I’m so sorry I didn’t know- “ Emma said, her spoon frozen halfway to her mouth. 

“It’s okay, life finds a way. I carried on.” Betsy smiled to herself, a smile that lit her up from the inside through the sad tilt of her lips. A trill from inside the house, sending Emma’s spoon and the bright red tomato soup onto the baby blue sweater. 

“It appears Ava’s hungry too, I’ll be right back.”

“Ava?”

“I got a bird a few years back to keep myself company. It got a little lonely here by myself, but Ava’s singing always reminds me that I'm not alone.” Emma rushed to the sink to wash off the stain, but Betsy gently stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, you just finish your soup. She was messy too. She would have appreciated you carrying on the tradition. Excuse me, dear.”

She awkwardly took another spoonful, hoping that Betsy’s sniffling as she went off was due to the onions. She longed to reach out, but she didn’t have the words. Betsy returned soon, no hint of the previous sadness weighing her down. They ate together quietly, no words needed to be said. What was done was done and they were here for each other now. 

“Did you know I was…. different when you visited me?” Emma said, handing plates to her grandma, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. Betsy set the plate she was washing down with a sigh and pressed a kiss to her forehead. Don’t say that. You’re so much more than “different”. They want to just see that, but you’re brave and kind and ...more than what they see. But I knew. I knew you weren’t what your parents expected when your eyes lit up talking about girls in middle school. They tried to stop you, but you just kept gushing about their eyes and freckles and talent and...well I didn’t stop you. You could’ve talked about it for days and days and I would’ve listened but suddenly I wasn’t hearing about family dinners. Then they heard about my wife and they sent a passive-aggressive letter telling me not to influence you. I thought you might be safer if I listened but I think I made the wrong choice.”

“Don’t blame yourself, I could’ve tried harder to fit in or...anything else than be so blatantly gay. I was stupid,” Emma huffed, putting her hands in pockets. 

“Never apologize. You’re a fucking rockstar and you know it,” she gripped Emma’s shoulders, looking her straight in the eye. 

“I’m a fucking rockstar,” Emma chuckled dryily. “Grandma I think you need to get your eyes checked.”

“Oh yeah? Who else would run away from home?”

“I’m not running away from home! I’m just- just- “ Her breathing started getting heavier and an involuntary tear rolled down Emma’s cheek. Her hands raked through her hair anxiously, as if she was trying to tear the thoughts in her head to shreds. “What have I done. I’m so fucked. I’m just a stupid- ”She stopped suddenly with a gasping breath as she was engulfed in a crushing hug.

“If I could hug all the sadness out of you I would or just fill you with cookies till everything went away I would, but I know it’s not that simple. You’re always welcome here. If your mother takes one step into my house she’ll get what’s coming to her.” She released her from the hug, stroking Emma’s shaking form. “But for now we can toast marshmallows and forget all about them for a while. How does that sound?”

The fireplace crackled to life, and an hour passed easily with both of them swapping stories. Emma was laughing soon, though in the quiet spaces with just the fireplace filling the silence her face fell flat. She tried to keep up her spirits, but no magical witch or grandma’s hugs could take away her grief.

“You’re burning it, do you want it to be only ash?” Betsy laughed, nudging her. Ash. Another voice resonated in her head, one that she’d known for less than a day but felt like she could hear for a thousand years. Plant it in ashes, water it with chamomile tea and eat each blossom with a fresh slice of apple pie. She couldn’t have possibly known yet here she was, a burnt marshmallow and a cup of chamomile tea next to her. 

“I’m going to get more tea,” Emma said, with a trembling voice. Once she was by herself, she finally let herself breathe. With shaky hands she scraped the burnt part of marshmallow into a cup, hissing at the heat still sizzling off the marshmallow and reached under the sweater to the flower in her heart, pressing it into the ash. She shakily watered it with tea and the leaves slowly opened. The plant rose up and opened, glorious red petals unfurling like a sunrise, revealing hints of orange and gold in the inside of the petals. Her eyes opened wide and she couldn’t do anything but stare in wonder at real life magic happening in front of her. This wasn’t an eighth grader trying to do cool card tricks. The air felt shimmery like invisible glitter had exploded all over and for a moment she forgot the last step, but the last step finally sprung from the water that had melted her brain into and she was scrambling for leftovers, homemade cookies, anything. She could already tell everything her grandma did she did with love. Emma gobbled up everything she could till the petals were gone. 

She no longer felt empty inside, the warmth spread throughout all the places that had been empty or broken. It took the air out of her lungs at first but then breathing was easier than it had ever been. Every breath was filled with love and care and she flushed, thinking that the witch had done all this for her. The warmth in her ebbed thinking of Alyssa’s warm eyes, sparkling with life. And god her touch. She could stay in arms for hours. 

Finally, for once in her life, she was warm.


End file.
